


Going Through the Motions

by reapertownusa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bondage, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Non Consensual, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Spanking, Whipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-06-22
Updated: 2010-06-22
Packaged: 2017-11-27 01:23:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/656475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reapertownusa/pseuds/reapertownusa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean’s search for some missing hunters adds them, Castiel and Jo to the list of the missing. In the hands of a demon from Dean’s past they’re forced to perform for a live web audience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Dub-con / non-con voyeuristic fuck-or-die scenario between Dean, Sam, Castiel and Jo. M/m molestation by an OC and vague references to past rape/torture in hell. Violence, bondage and a bucket full of angst. Anything outside of scat/watersports is fair game.
> 
> Author's Note: Written for a spnkink_meme prompt requesting that Dean, Sam, Castiel and Jo are forced to have sex with each other in front of a live-streaming web-cam with their actions being dictated by e-suggestions sent in by the viewers.

Leaning against the splintered wooden guardrail of the dock, Sam couldn’t help but smile. After an entire day of scouting the small town they had found nothing to help with the case and the world was literally going to hell. He should be frustrated, but mixed in with the lapping waves and the cries of the seagulls was the sound of his brother laughing. Sam couldn’t remember the last time he had heard Dean really laugh. 

The corner of his lips were still tugged up when Castiel joined him at the railing. Sam looked away from the brilliant sunset to the angel beside him. Castiel’s hands were shoved into the pockets of his trench coat, his eyes also focused contemplatively out towards the setting sun. After a moment of reflection Castiel looked towards him. 

“I believe they are engaging in courtship rituals,” Castiel said. 

Sam glanced over his shoulder to see Jo give Dean a playful shove. When Dean chuckled again Sam just shook his head and looked back over the water. For nearly two decades he had watched his brother put the moves on an obscene number of girls, but Dean was different with Jo. Maybe because of Ellen’s history with Dad, Jo and Ellen weren’t just strangers they had met on the road. They were family. 

Apocalypse or no apocalypse, when Ellen had asked for help on a case Dean had insisted that they drop everything and book out to California where Jo had been on the trail of several missing hunters. While they were getting nowhere on the case, Sam couldn’t help but think that being here working on something half normal was a break that they both desperately needed. Or at least that was what he had thought before Castiel had showed up warning that there was something more to this. 

“Hey, Dean, does that guy look familiar?” 

Sam’s posture straightened at the apprehensive tone of Jo’s voice. There was a man standing at the end of the dock just watching them. While the park had been full when they had arrived, it had mostly emptied out in the last fifteen minutes since the place technically closed at dusk. Sam figured that the man was with the park and was waiting for them to leave, but when he really looked he realized Jo was right. 

“Yep,” Dean replied under his breath. “Dude was hanging around the hot dog stand and the library.” 

Dean’s hand slipped beneath his shirt to discretely grip his gun. He shot a glance to Sam who nodded in silent understanding. At Jo’s expectant look Dean just gave her a reassuring wink before he turned and strode towards the man. By the disgruntle look on her face, Sam was pretty sure that Jo would have smacked Dean if he hadn’t moved away so quickly. 

“You need some help or do you just got a problem minding your own business?” Dean asked the man. 

Warily Sam watched their interaction and reached for his own gun. It was more out of instinct than necessity. He was standing next to an angel; bullets were far from their best defense. Still, Sam’s nerves were put on edge when he saw a subtle shift in Dean’s posture. In the fading light no one but Sam could have noticed, but Dean’s usual confidence had faded to apprehension. 

Dean didn’t give him a signal to move in, but his brother stiffened as the man whispered in his ear. Something was wrong. It wasn’t like Dean to let someone move in that close. Sam was already closing the distance between himself and Dean when the man’s hand shot out to clutch Dean’s throat. In an instant Dean was twisted around and slammed into the dock’s railing. 

“Sam, behind you!” Jo cried out. 

Spinning around Sam saw Castiel crumpled on the ground. A second, larger man hovered over the angel’s fallen form. An unsettling grin crossed the man’s face. It made him falter just long enough that Sam failed to see the third man before everything went dark. 

~~~

Sam’s brow furrowed as his groggy mind grasped for consciousness. Even before he could find the strength to open his eyes he worked to put together the clues gathered from his other senses. Coldness from a smooth surface beneath him soaked into his cheek. The air was drafty, but stale, heavy with a chemical or gasoline taint. It aggravated his already painfully throbbing head. Several people were wordlessly shuffling about. Then he heard the one voice that could pull him from his dazed state. 

“Sammy, you okay?” 

Dean. While he could not yet force his mouth to comply, he was flooded with the relief of hearing his brother’s voice. That relief shattered when he remembered what had happened. A jolt of anxiety ran through him and he quickly scrambled to stand. He had to settle for sitting when his head swam at the sudden movement. 

While he was waiting for the room to stop spinning Dean had somehow appeared at his side. He was vaguely aware that his brother was heatedly arguing with someone, but the dispute was over by the time Sam was able to swallow down the nausea that had risen to the back of his throat. 

He didn’t fight Dean’s searching hands in his hair only because he was too overwhelmed with taking everything in. Aside from the darkening bruises at his temple and throat, Dean looked okay. Past Dean Sam could see Castiel kneeling on the floor and looking more broody than usual. Jo was also on her knees. Her head was titled forward enough that her long curls obscured her face from the side, but from his angle Sam could see that she was glaring daggers at someone. 

The room was just some old two car garage full of junk that had been shoved to the side. There was an old rusty lawnmower, a tool cabinet, old taped up boxes and half used cans of paint. It looked like quintessential suburbia except for the Enochian painted on the walls and the back of the garage door. The only light was coming from the screen of a computer that had been set up on one of the garage’s workbenches. 

There were five men that Sam could see. The one at the computer was typing on some forum as obliviously as if he was sitting in an office cubicle. Behind him another man was setting up several tripods while the three remaining men had the clear space Sam and the others sat in surrounded. The men stood silently with rifles held securely in their hands. It was one of those men that Jo was glaring at and who had a gun trained on Dean. 

“You checked him, now back on your knees,” the man barked at Dean. 

“Alright. I’m getting to it,” Dean grumbled in reply. He sent a concerned glance to Sam before complying. His eyes narrowed venomously on the man. “Happy?” 

“I’ll be happy when I’m watching your brother rape your pretty little ass.” 

The man laughed mockingly as the hostile look in Dean’s eyes momentarily flashed to uncertainty. Dean quickly recovered, his expression only turning more lethal. Sam sat up straighter, his blood boiling at the insinuation. He only looked away from the guard when the man at the computer pushed his chair back and stood. It was the man from the park. 

There was nothing extraordinary about him. The guy was clean-cut, dressed slightly upscale, but casual. He looked like this could be his garage and his wife and kids could be sleeping in the house. When Sam saw the man’s inky black eyes he realized that this probably was the man’s garage, but the garage’s real owner was out of commission. The demon looked over them appraisingly before nodding to himself. 

“Let’s start with the ground rules. I give the orders you all follow them. If anyone doesn’t comply, there’s four of you. Do the math. I can kill a couple and still enjoy the show. Enough talk. Everyone strip.” 

Sam remained frozen where he was not because he refused to comply, but simply because the meaning of the words didn’t register. He had yet to grasp onto what was happening and he couldn’t begin to process that the demon had just told them all to undress. 

“Wait.” Suddenly Dean stood and took several steps towards the demon before the guards honed their sights on him. Apparently amused, the demon held his hand up to signal the guards to back off. “You only need two. Leave them out of this,” Dean said with a nod towards Sam and Jo. 

Awestruck, Sam stared at his brother who must have a better handle on what was happening. The demon remained silent as it stalked towards Dean, closing in until their chests were nearly touching. While he leaned back slightly, Dean stood his ground. Sam held his breath while he waited for some kind of signal from Dean. His brother obviously had a plan, Sam just couldn’t figure out what it was. 

“You certainly have the resume for it,” the demon replied. At the words Sam’s brow creased and Dean looked to the ground. “You can play hero all you like, but we both know what you are.” 

“Don’t.” Dean’s simple demand was barely audible. 

“Don’t what?” the demon asked with a false innocence. “Don’t tell sweet Sammy and your little girlfriend how you put out in the Pit? The fun we had with you, the things we put in you...it really put fisting to shame.” 

The demon’s voice was louder than it needed to be. Its hand reached out to grasp Dean's chin, raising his head. A finger ran along Dean’s cheek, tracing down his jaw line. Sam’s own jaw clenched painfully as he watched Dean force himself to endure the caress. He tried not to think of everything else the demon was implying his brother had endured for him. 

“Did I mention we’re old friends?” the demon asked Sam with a nod towards Dean. “He didn’t start out as the angels’ bitch after all...” The thing’s hand trailed down Dean’s heaving chest, stopping at the front of his jeans. “We’ll just see if Michael still wants his desecrated vessel when we’re done with you.” Dean’s face twisted in revulsion as the demon gripped him, shame blushing over his pale freckles. 

“Get your hands off him,” Sam warned. 

"I got a better idea. How about you shut your mouth and show me the jewels?” While the demon’s eyes were on Sam, it pulled back its hand into a fist, landing it solidly into Dean’s groin. Gasping, Dean doubled over. The demon followed up with a crack of its fist across his face. Dean’s head snapped to the side, sending him stumbling against a poorly stacked pile of boxes that crashed down around him. 

“Dean!” 

Sam was on his feet and half way to Dean before Jo grabbed a hold of his arm. “Sam, don’t!” 

Though she was pulling him with all her strength, Sam could have easily thrown her off. It was only confusion that stopped him. He looked at her for an explanation, but the answer came from the click of a gun’s hammer being drawn back. When Sam again looked forward Dean was struggling to kneel, blood seeping from the split skin over his cheekbone. Dean’s own ivory handled pistol was shoved against the base of his skull. 

“Any more horseplay and you’ll be using Martyr’s brains for lubricant.” Sam raised his hands in surrender and took a step back. “The three of you have one minute to be baring your birthday suits or I pull the trigger on this one.” 

The demon dragged Dean to his feet and jammed the gun against his head for emphasis. Sam tried to visually verify that Dean was all right, but his brother’s eyes were fixed on the scuffed up floor. Before he really knew what was happening Sam was stripping off his shirt. While he was trying not to look, he saw enough to see that Jo and Castiel were doing the same. 

Sam pushed his jeans down and kicked them off with his shoes, shivering as a draft from the garage door brushed along his back. His fingers were hesitating on waistband of his briefs when Castiel spoke. “My father made these bodies, there is no shame in baring them.” 

“We got ourselves a cute angel,” the demon said. “That makes you our first volunteer. March your ass over here.” 

“For what purpose?” Castiel asked suspiciously. 

“So you can undress this whore and fuck his brains out.” 

A wicked glint flashed over the demon’s eyes before it shoved Dean towards Castiel. Caught off guard, Dean hit the concrete floor, skidding to a stop against Castiel’s bare feet. The angel cast a concerned look down towards Dean and Sam’s own lips pressed thin with worry when his brother didn’t stand. Dean had shifted into position to get up but remained on the floor. It took a long moment for the sickening realization to set in that Dean was waiting for the demon to tell him to move. 

Apparently convinced that Dean was all right, Castiel looked back up to the demon. “I don’t believe that’s physically possible. Even if it were, I will not kill him.” 

“Just strip him and fuck him, Cupid, or I’ll shove that broomstick over there so far up his ass it’ll be coming out the other end. Maybe that’ll make you a believer.” 

Another wave of nausea flowed over Sam as he stood naked staring down at his unusually silent and still brother. Whatever this demon wanted to happen was going to happen. The defeated slump in his brother’s shoulders said that Dean knew it too. With everything else bearing down on them Sam was terrified that Dean might have already surrendered to far more than just the demon overseeing this.


	2. Chapter 2

Sometimes Dean wondered if he had ever really left hell. In his own deranged way he had come to enjoy his place there. Being a demon was easy, it was being human that was a real bitch. At least in hell the suffering had happened to him. Here he had to watch the people he loved be hurt and there was still just the same choice – pick up the razor or don’t, say yes to Michael or don’t. It was just how much he could endure before he broke and let some other poor soul be damned in his place. 

“On your feet,” Sandor told him. 

Ignoring the protests of his battered muscles, Dean stood, purposefully avoiding meeting the demon’s eyes. Compared to Alastair, Sandor was just a cheap hack, but the guy took the cake for being one seriously creepy ass son of a bitch. Alastair had been a professional. Everything he touched turned to crimson and he hadn’t been the touchy feely sort. Sandor and his groupies were a whole different story. 

Dean squinted, his arm moving up to shield his eyes as a bright light flooded over him. For a precious second he felt a trace of hope that somehow Castiel had gotten his powers back despite the angel scribble on the walls binding him. When his eyes adjusted, Dean was still standing in the garage. The light was coming from a spotlight setup on one of the tripods by the computer. 

“What the hell?” 

Sandor had returned his attention to the computer, but glanced back towards him. “Dark and moody is fine for the movies, but these people are paying good money to see all the gory details. I wouldn’t want them to miss any of their favorite hunter, pseudo-angel vessel taking it from the angel that pulled him from the Pit.” 

The one who had been setting up the tripods now had a video camera in his hand. He walked closer, focusing the lens on Dean who glared into it in disbelief. “You’re filming this?” 

“Live streaming,” Sandor replied. The demon now spoke as he typed without bothering to turn around. “This will be an interactive show.” 

“Forget it.” Dean threw his arms to the side. “I’m done.” 

“Dean, I don’t believe you have a choice,” Castiel said. 

“Story of my life. Well, screw that. I’m through playing poseable action figure for a bunch of dicks.” 

“Like the angel said, you hardly have a choice.” 

Without so much as standing, Sandor nodded towards the guards. One came up behind Dean. He took a swing at the man, but the guard intercepted the blow, catching his fist with a crushing force. Dean cringed as he heard the cracking in his own hand before the butt of the rifle was driven between his shoulders, bringing him down to his knees. With a twist of his arm, the guard wrenched Dean’s arms behind him and hauled him back to his feet. 

By the time the guard had him fully restrained, Castiel was also being held and the third guard was standing over where Sam and Jo were kneeling. The muzzle of a rifle was digging against Jo’s temple. There was panick in her eyes, but on the outside, Jo was doing a better job than him at keeping her composure. She remained still with her rage focused on the guard. 

Dean twisted in the grip that held him. Sandor stood from the computer and casually strode back over to Dean. “Damn it, Sandor. I swear to god, if you so much as...” The demon’s finger pressed against his lip to silence him. 

“Nothing would come of killing you, but I will happily hollow you out so you really are nothing more than an empty vessel. Princess was just the bait to lure you here. She’s not the one our viewers are tuning in for.” 

The guard lording over Jo tightened his grip on the rifle’s trigger. “Wait!” Dean urged against the demon’s finger. Sandor titled his head and moved his hand away. “Okay...okay.” 

Sandor clapped his hands together. “Good. So I’m going to turn on the web feed and we’re going to get started. Just so we’re clear, I give an order and it’s followed without hesitation.” Sandor’s hand absently ran over Dean’s hair as he spoke. “If anyone has a problem with a task, I beat the martyr.” The irritating petting turned to a harsh grip as the demon’s eyes focused back in on Dean. “Martyr, anything you refuse to do will be done to her.” Letting go of his hair with a shove, Sandor gestured towards Jo. “Three strikes and she’s out. I’ll splatter her brains and move on to your brother. Got it?” 

Dean nodded stiffly. 

“I’m glad we could come to an agreement. Now smile real pretty for the camera. We’re going live.” 

The guard released his aching arms and stepped away. With the decision made Dean stood awkwardly in front of Castiel. Despite how he tried, it was basically impossible to ignore the fact that Cas was naked, even harder to ignore the fact that Castiel was about to strip him. He instantly stiffened as the angel's hands reached for the lapels of his jacket. 

Castiel grimaced sympathetically. “I suppose this was not what you intended when you wished for me to lose my virginity.” 

Like this wasn’t awkward enough without the damned angel wanting to discuss the fact he’d never been laid. Despite everything a sardonic chuckle escaped Dean. He quirked a brow while he tried to ignore the fact that Castiel had moved on to sliding his flannel off his shoulders. “Cas, did you just make a joke?” 

The angel looked at him quizzically, momentarily ceasing his methodical movements. “It was a genuine inquiry. Do you find it funny?” 

“This whole thing is fucking hilarious.” Dean sighed when Castiel somehow managed to look even more confused. “I guess it’s all the same. You’re still ending up with some bitch with absentee father issues.” 

After a moment of consideration, Castiel gave a slight nod and returned to carefully pulling off Dean’s flannel. “I find you preferable.” 

“Come again?” Dean blinked, his face scrunching up as he looked to Castiel. “Dude, you’re an angel of the Lord and I’m...nothing.” 

Castiel shook his head doubtfully. “You can’t truly believe that.” 

Dean looked away, his muscles clenching as Castiel’s hands unintentionally brushed against the tender skin of his abdomen. He couldn’t decide whether it was easier or harder that the guy stripping him had no concept of how wrong this was. With a glance towards Jo, Dean bit back his revulsion and lifted his arms to let Castiel remove his t-shirt. His eyes narrowed on Cas, the angel’s words still ringing in his head. 

“When you say you find me ‘preferable’...?” 

Without comment Castiel bent down to untie Dean’s boots. Dean numbly stepped out of them, kicking them aside. When Castiel’s fingers began to work his belt buckle, Dean’s breath hitched in his throat. For a moment Castiel paused, waiting patiently for Dean to meet his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, Dean. You have no reason to be shameful of your body.” Castiel pressed his fingers carefully over his own handprint branded into Dean’s skin. “I’ve seen it all before. You were gifted with a very attractive form.” 

“Not really the words I need to be hearing right now, Cas,” Dean huffed under his breath. 

“I fail to understand your desire for trivial fornication.” Castiel’s tone implied that it was an explanation, but for what Dean wasn’t sure. “I therefore find it preferable to ‘lose my virginity’ with you in a way that will spare you additional suffering. I apologize that I cannot do more.” 

Dean’s clouded mind couldn’t summon up an appropriate response as Castiel’s fingers nimbly unbuttoned his jeans. His pants slid down his thighs and pooled at his feet. Even Castiel hesitated for a moment before grasping the waistband of his boxers and pulling them down. Castiel was wrong if he thought Dean was ashamed of his body, he wasn’t, not by a long shot. It was stripping in front of a bunch of sick bastards that just wanted to see him fucked six ways from Sunday before they shot him dead that had him in a knot. 

“Good. Now on the bench there’s a cock ring. Put it on him,” Sandor ordered Castiel. 

With a perplexed expression Castiel followed Sandor’s eyes to the workbench. He retrieved a silver ring and rolled it between his fingers. After examining it he looked back to Sandor. “It’s too large.” 

“Hey!” Dean objected before reality caught up with him. Castiel didn’t know how to get in bed with a girl, the angel sure as hell wouldn’t think that thing was anything but an oversized ring. Dean swallowed hard and held his hand out to take it. 

“No touching,” Sandor reprimanded. “Talk him through it.” 

“No.” Dean shot an infuriated glare towards the demon. “I’m not gonna stand around and tell an angel how to shove a ring up my dick. Just shoot me. Not her - me.” 

“Dean, stop,” Sam hissed at him. 

Dean ignored his brother and turned to present himself to the nearest guard, throwing his arms wide open. “Come on. Do it! Hell, give me the gun and I’ll do it myself. Believe me, your ratings will shoot through the roof.” 

“Let me do it,” Jo interrupted. Her eyes were on Sandor. “Your show’s gonna suck if you shoot all of us before it even starts and you can’t put that thing on me.” 

When he realized what she was asking, Dean’s features twisted. He didn’t want Jo to do it anymore than he wanted to talk Castiel through it. Jo shouldn’t even be here. None of them should. The only comfort her suggestion provided was that she would be at his side instead of at the wrong end of one of those rifles. Even if he wanted to object he couldn’t find the words for it. 

Sandor must have agreed because Dean could hear Jo’s bare feet padding towards him. When her hand grasped his, he looked up. His gaze jumped straight from the floor to her eyes, skipping the in between that on any other day he would have explored in detail. 

“I’m sorry,” he told her in a broken whisper. 

She fought for a smile as her hand reached into his hair. Her lips brushed against his, lingered for a moment as he met them. She pulled back enough to look up into his eyes. “Don’t be. No matter what happens.” 

Dean held her eyes and knew what she was thinking. None of them were getting out of here. This was how it ended. He shook his head. No matter how this played out, him, Sam and Cas were royally fucked, but he wasn’t going to let Jo die here. Not like this. 

He knew it was coming, hell the damn camera was positioned for the close-up, but he still jerked his hips as her fingers tentatively maneuvered his balls into the cold metal of the ring. He pinched his eyes closed as her hand moved on to manipulated his flaccid cock. “Does that hurt?” He gave a nearly imperceptible shake of his head. Still she looked up to him apologetically. “It’s a little small, but I think it’ll be okay.” 

“Thanks,” Dean replied awkwardly. “How exactly...” 

“Ash.” 

“You and Ash...?” 

“Not a chance. He kind of had an accident with...it’s a long story you really don’t want to hear right now.” 

No doubt one better left untold. Already the visuals were unsettling and considering his current state he really didn’t need to hear about cock rings gone bad. Still, part of him wanted the whole story in vivid detail only because as long as she was telling him a story then Castiel couldn’t be riding his ass. 

“Okay you did it, get away from them,” Sandor said. Reluctantly Jo returned to Sam’s side. Dean caught a glimpse of his brother’s desperate eyes before again looking down. “Face the wall.” 

Out of excuses, Dean did as he was told, braced himself and waited. It felt like he had been staring at the exposed drywall for years before he finally risked a glance behind his back. Castiel was looking down at himself disapprovingly. 

“My body appears to be unresponsive.” 

Dean leaned heavily against the wall and took in a deep, frustrated breath. “Just touch it. You know...damn it, Cas.” 

“Get him up,” Sandor cut in. 

“Get yourself up you sick son of a bitch,” Dean spat in reply. 

“I’m already there,” Sandor assured him. Dean’s stomach lurched. He looked away to avoid seeing Sandor’s eyes roving over him, momentarily forgetting what he was supposed to be doing. “You have ten seconds to start working that angel up to fuck you.” 

Trying not to think at all, Dean repositioned himself to stand behind Cas. He grasped the angel’s soft cock in his unsteady hand. Closing his eyes, he pretended he was holding himself without the benefit of sensation. His fingers encircled Castiel and barely ran his length before the angel gasped sharply, pressing back into him. Instantly Dean softened the pressure he was applying. This was the first time anyone had touched Castiel and it was obvious that the angel had never touched himself. At least this would be over quickly. 

“The results for our first poll are in – 86% want the angel to fuck the hunter dry. Sorry boys, no lube.” Dean grimaced at Sandor’s gleeful announcement. The demon waved a bottle of lube in the air before tossing it aside on the bench. “Look at this way, Martyr, you’ll get torn up this round, but you’ll have plenty of angel juice for lubricant when your brother fucks you. Now stop jacking him off and show the angel how to rape you.” 

“I don’t understand what he said,” Castiel rasped. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean replied. He stepped away from Castiel and moved back to the wall, struggling to still the panic building inside of him. 

“What is my next move?” 

By Castiel’s tone they could have been playing chess, but the angel’s breaths were short and ragged. Dean spread his legs to open himself up for Cas. “Get behind me.” Dean could barely speak the words as he all but shoved the Castiel’s dick in for him. He waited, eyes clenched shut in preparation for the pain he knew was coming, but again nothing happened. When he looked back at Castiel the angel was doing that annoying as hell head tilt thing at his ass. 

“The fit is inappropriate. His body was not designed to be entered in this way,” Castiel informed Sandor. It was presented as a shocking revelation. The guards started snickering while Sandor just gave a bored sigh. 

“Then you shouldn’t have any problem making the tight little bitch beg. Face towards the camera, Martyr, your head doesn’t move from that direction. The audience wants to see those tears.” 

The anger curled Dean’s bracing hands into fists. He pressed his bloody cheek against the wall and focused on all the ways he was going to tear Sandor apart. His mind was so busy playing out every vicious detail that he nearly missed Castiel’s question. 

“How do I fulfill their request without damaging you?” 

Dean steadied his breath before replying. “I don’t think you can.” 

“In all your fornication you have never performed this particular act.” It wasn’t a question and he tried to ignore the marginal surprise in Castiel’s tone. 

“Not here.” 

“In hell,” Castiel supplied understandingly. “Dean...” 

“Fork it over, I totally won that bet,” one of the guards on the sideline announced victoriously.

“No way,” another man replied. “That little slut’s lying. Look at him. Nothing that pretty hasn’t taken it up the ass one way or another.” 

There were countless threats and insults on the tip of Dean’s tongue, but for once he chocked them back. His mind screamed to fight this, but he remained silently braced against the grungy wall. As long as the men’s attention was on him, it wasn’t on Sam or Jo. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Sam’s fist tighten and Jo’s soft features twist in anger. They needed to leave it alone. Cruel words were the least of their problems. 

He knew he couldn’t protect Cas in this, but given all the crap this world dished out, he knew Castiel must have at least witnessed things that would put hair on the chest of the bastards that held the guns. Castiel would survive. It was the rest of them that were totally fucked. 

“I’ll settle this,” Sandor said. The amusement in the demon’s voice made the hair at the back of Dean's neck stand on end. He hung his head as he heard the heavy footsteps approaching him from behind. 

“What are you doing?” Castiel demanded. 

“Checking something. Stand aside or I’ll make it hurt far more than it has to.” 

When Dean looked over his shoulder he saw that Castiel had stepped in the demon’s way. To his credit, for a power drained angel trapped in a useless, naked vessel Cas somehow managed to look pretty damn scary. Somehow the whole wrath of God vibe still shone through loud and clear. 

“You have no right to violate these people.” 

So far Sandor hadn’t hurt Cas, but Dean could see the hate in the demon’s eyes. Castiel didn’t need to be pushing his luck over something that was going to happen one way or another. “Just let him through, Cas,” Dean forced himself to say in the steadiest voice he could manage. 

With a satisfied smirk, Sandor closed the distance and came up behind Dean. The woven fabric of Sandor’s polo shirt scratched against his bare back as the demon snaked an arm around Dean’s chest to pin him. Pressed to Sandor’s front he could feel the hardened bulge in the demon’s borrowed slacks. At first he fought the far too intimate hold, but when Castiel again stepped into view Dean struggled to still himself. 

“That angel is almost as much of a pit bull as you are.” As he spoke, Sandor’s wandering hand teased at Dean’s nipple before sliding down his side. 

“Don’t you touch him and don’t you fucking touch me,” Dean warned under his quickening breath. 

“Or what?” Sandor asked. A hard grip latched onto the base of Dean’s cock, twisting the ring idly. Dean’s disobedient hips twitched at the sensation, the heat building in him. “That’s what I thought. You hold real still or I’m going to have some quality time with Princess over there.” 

“Why don’t you just try,” Jo shouted in reply. 

“Shut your mouth,” the guard said. “I got a lot of cash riding on this. I mean, come on - you, the great vessel of Lucifer, expect me to believe you hang around that twenty four seven and never fuck it?” 

“He’s my brother,” Sam replied incredulously. “And if you don't leave him alone I’m going to kill every last one of you.” The anger in his brother's voice was barely contained. Sammy was seriously pissed and that wasn't going to end well for anyone. 

“That thing ain’t your brother - you’re one of us.” 

Even though it was a lie, Dean cringed at the words. He was sure that Sam had too and that only made the anger rise further up in him. “He’s nothing like you.” If it was the last thing he did, Dean would prove that to the world. 

“You keep telling yourself that,” Sandor replied. “Just don’t be surprised when its his knife that stabs you in the back.” 

Unceremoniously Sandor kicked his feet wider apart. Dean repositioned himself as directed while the rage and fear welling up inside him quickened his breath. Sandor’s hand tugging on his half hard cock made his heart race despite his attempts to control his body’s reaction. Sandor dug his nail along the length of Dean’s forming erection causing him to buck against the demon. 

“Where’s Alistair’s razor when you need it?” 

“Stay down!” one of the guards ordered. 

With his forehead pressed against the wall, eyes closed to block out the lights and the camera he knew was focused on him, Dean couldn’t see what was happening behind him. He couldn’t have forced himself to face his brother even if he was physically able, but it was a safe bet that Sam was as ready as him to start kicking some ass rather than sitting around waiting to take it up the ass. 

“Another word out of anyone and Sammy’s going to have a sister,” Sandor warned. 

Dean’s knees weakened as the demon clamped down on his balls. A pained groan escaped him as rough, prying hands moved on to roam the clenched curves of his ass. With a forceful shove Sandor pressed a dry finger inside of him. His body fought the pained friction of the intrusion, his shoulders trembling. It took everything he had to stand there and take it. He knew he couldn't fight it. With Jo and Sam’s lives hanging over him it might as well be the restraints of the rack holding him in place. 

Sandor gave an impressed whistled. “I’ve never felt anything this tight.” The finger twisted in him as Sandor pressed his mouth to Dean’s ear and whispered. “When we’re finished filming, you and I are going to have a reunion.” 

“You will do no such thing,” Castiel interrupted. “You wished me to ‘fuck’ him, now allow me to do so.” 

Dean was unsure at what point Sandor had pulled out of him and stepped away. He didn’t realize the demon had until he felt Castiel’s hand resting on his shoulder. “Dean, open your eyes,” Castiel ordered. “You’re not there.” With a surprising command, Castiel turned Dean around to face him. Dean blinked his eyes, his breath ragged. “What was done to you in hell is not physically possible here.” 

Slowly Dean nodded. “Do it...just do it.” 

“As you wish. I believe I now understand the process.” 

It was meant as a reassurance, but reassured was the last thing Dean felt as he returned his palms to the wall. His breath caught in his throat as he felt Castiel’s erection brushed against the back of his leg. He fought to keep his face pointed in the direction of the camera, using the difficulty in doing so as something to focus on. The startling sensation of Castiel trying to push into him tore a whimper from him. Instinctually he jerked away, startling as he felt hands grip his hips. 

“Don’t...” 

“Do you wish me to stop?” Castiel asked. 

Yes. He wanted a lot of things right now. Stopping would be a good start, torching this place and everyone in it would be a good place to go next. He would settle for just not existing, anything that wasn’t taking this while he stood on spectacle. It wasn’t even that Sandor, the guards and whoever else was watching on the other side of the camera. 

Sandor had already seen this part of him and far worse. It was that his brother and Jo were watching, that some poor holy angel was being forced to do it to him. But no one had asked him what he wanted and he wasn’t going back to Ellen to tell her that her daughter was dead because he couldn’t hold still and let himself be fucked by an angel. 

“No. Just don’t touch me.” 

Castiel’s tone shifted from concerned to puzzled. “That is unavoidable for this particular action.” 

Dean shifted uncomfortably and struggled to find the words in his currently very limited vocabulary. “I mean...just keep your hands to yourself.” 

“I can’t enter you unless you stop pulling away. Dean...” Castiel continued hesitantly, “I don’t wish to rape you.” 

Dean took in a sharp breath at the words. “I know. You’re not. Just do whatever you gotta do. It's okay, Cas.” 

He jumped again at the sensation of Castiel’s hands gripping him, gentle but firm. The moistened tip of Castiel’s cock searched for entry. Dean forgot all about the hands as the internal burning hit him. He tried not to hear Castiel’s gasp of surprise. Grimacing, he shifted away from the flaring pain as his unprepared opening stretched painfully. It felt like a knife slicing as Castiel tentatively pushed further into him. 

By the time Castiel’s hips made contact with his overheated skin, Dean could barely breath. He groaned, gritting his teeth as Castiel pulled back, then thrust deeper. The motion became rhythmic as Castiel’s body must have taken over. The movement inside of him became smoother and he tried to avoid the thought that it was his own blood softening the friction of the thrusts. The only sound beside their stifled moans was the slap of flesh and the automatic zoom of focusing camera lens. 

So much for his teenage virgin theory. Some of Castiel’s power must still be intact because the angel wasn't lacking for stamina. As Dean rode it out, his own cock grew painfully hard. Desperately he tried to bury his head in his chest as if it would help him to disappear. He was totally getting off on Cas fucking him in front of his brother, Jo, a bunch of strangers and who knew how many web viewers. 

As Castiel spilled into him, spouting unintentional praises of ecstasy, he collapsed against Dean. Castiel’s chest was sticky against his sweat slick back, the angel’s fingers digging into his shoulders for support. Dean pressed together his tear matted lashes. His nerves were still on fire, burning painful, but dulled by the endorphins and arousal he couldn’t fight despite his disgust. Castiel was right, physically it wasn’t as bad as hell, but mentally it was worse. 

Dean’s skin was flushed, his breath uneven, the pain twitchy in his needy groin. The heat in his stomach twisted and it all made him want to shove a pistol in his own mouth. He stayed braced against the wall, sucking in air as Cas pulled away, laying a soft, apologetic hand on his shoulder. 

“You’ve been injured.” 

Dean leaned against the wall, saying nothing in reply. A sticky mess of fluids seeped from him while he clung to the sensation of Castiel's protective hand. Even though the last thing he wanted right now was for anyone to be touching him, it was the lesser evil. Before he could catch up with his own thoughts, Sandor was speaking again. He struggled to shut the demon out, instead holding on to the presence of the angel watching over him.


	3. Chapter 3

Jo’s lip quivered. Despite her struggle for bravado she was about to lose her fight against tears that threatened to fall. Stubbornly she blinked them back, refusing to give the jerks watching the satisfaction. She tenaciously clung to anger to fuel her focus on finding an opening. 

The coldness of the concrete seeped in through her knees. She flexed her toes to keep the blood circulating through her cramping legs, clinging to the futile hope that she might have to make a move at a moment’s notice. So far there had been nothing resembling a chance out of here - no hope of stopping this. All she could do was sit with a gun shoved in her face and wonder if the creeps were right, if this really was her fault. 

All her life she had fought not to be the damsel in distress and here she was shivering naked on a floor just waiting her turn to perform for these sick freaks. Instead of fighting she was just listening to her friends being tortured. 

Only when Castiel said Dean was injured did she raise her eyes towards them. When she did her stomach flipped. This wasn’t the first time she’d seen Dean hurt or scared. Usually it was only his eyes that gave it away, but now vulnerability was starkly visible in every exposed muscle of his body. 

His entire weight was braced against the wall and she was sure he didn’t realize how far he was leaning into Castiel. The angel stood protectively beside him, but Jo knew it wouldn’t help. Whatever these guys had done, Castiel was just as weak as the rest of them. 

Dean’s unsteady breaths were the only sound until Sandor broke the silence. “Clean him up.” 

After a quick scan of the cluttered garage, Castiel looked towards the demon. “Where are the towels?” 

There was a round of chuckles so laced with malice that it made Jo’s blood run cold. “With your mouth. Rim the little slut before you plug him.” Everyone except Sandor jumped when Dean slammed his fist against the wall. “Is there a problem?” Dean let out a frustrated breath, but shook his head. “Good. Then guide your pet angel or I’ll sic him on the Princess.” 

Jo clutched her hands so tightly her nails bit painfully into her palms. Beside her Sam’s face was twisted and every muscle strained with the effort of doing nothing but silently sitting by. Her moisture rimmed eyes fixed hatefully on Sandor and the satisfied smile that twisted his lips. 

“This will injure you further?” Castiel asked Dean. 

Looking back at them, Jo saw Dean shift his stance, again spreading his legs. “I’m fine.” He could barely choke out the words. 

“I believe I am misinterpreting your definition of ‘fine’.” 

“Just...” Dean’s forehead fell forward against the wall, shoulders slumping as he took in a shuddering breath. “Just get on your knees behind me.” 

“If you think it best.” 

Castiel lowered himself to kneel, drawing a sharp gasp from Dean as he saved Dean from having to say the words. It was beyond Jo how Castiel could still look stoic with his tongue running along Dean’s shaky inner thighs. As much as she knew she should look away, she was too stunned. If the world could do this to an angel, the rest of them were so screwed. 

“All the way up in there,” Sandor said. 

When Castiel’s tongue pushed further Dean whimpered. His hips jerked away before he caught himself and forced back into position. It was too late to convince Castiel. The angel had already pulled back. Jo didn’t realize she was holding her breath until Sandor gave a new order. 

“Don’t make me tell him, Martyr.” 

When Dean looked over his shoulder Jo was ready to rush the nearest guard without thought to the consequence. The camera lights reflected off the trails of silent tears that streaked Dean’s flushed cheeks. Jo had expected to see rage, but all she saw was pain. 

Beside her Sam shifted anxiously. He saw it too. Dean must have felt them watching him because he steeled his expression. His blank eyes wandered over to the cluttered workbench the cock ring had come from. He nervously licked his lips and nodded in that direction. 

While Dean didn’t speak Castiel somehow understood. With an unnatural grace, the angel rose and reluctantly left Dean’s side. After a glance over the various items on the table he looked back for Dean’s guidance. 

“On the edge,” Dean rasped. 

Castiel picked up the large anal plug and examined it disapprovingly. Horror flashed over Dean’s eyes as he got a clear look. He swallowed hard and turned back to the wall. With the plug in hand Castiel returned to his side. Dean bent forward, but the angel just stood there. 

“As much as I love my ass hanging out in front of a camera, let’s just get this over with,” Dean urged when nothing happened. 

“Where exactly would you have me put it?” Castiel asked. “This item is too large for insertion.” 

“Just work it in.” 

“I fail to see the point.” 

Dean flexed his hands, which were now resting on his knees. “Please, Cas.” 

With a weary sigh, Castiel placed a steadying hand on Dean’s nervously twitching thigh. From what Jo could see, Castiel had only begun to press the plug in before Dean bit back a cry. Instantly Castiel stopped his manipulation of the plug. 

“Keep going,” Dean demanded through gritted teeth. 

“I will not knowingly harm you further.” 

“Past the hilt and flush with the flare,” Sandor instructed. He sounded like he was teaching a kindergartener how to paint. 

“That’s not possible.” Castiel’s tone was razor sharp, something Jo had never before heard from the angel. 

“Just spit on it and push harder,” Dean said. 

“Will spitting on it make it smaller?” 

When the guards laughed, Castiel’s expression flashed from confused to irate. The small part of Jo’s imagination that had still clung to the fluffy white winged version of angels was cleansed with the ferocity of the look Castiel nailed Sandor with. 

“This is a practice in futility.” Castiel’s tone was every bit as lethal as his stare. “The damage is severe enough.” 

“You’ve obviously never seen him balancing his kidneys on his head while eating his pancreas,” Sandor replied with a reminiscing smile. 

Jo desperately looked for some sign that the demon was joking, but didn’t see one. Sandor turned away, momentarily distracted with reading the sides of some of the stacked boxes. He picked a smaller one next to his chair, brushed off the cobwebs and tore the strapping tape from it. 

Leaning to the side, Jo could just make out the words ‘Pet Supplies’ and a kid’s drawing of a cat and dog scribbled on the side of the box with a giant marker. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of what had happened to the family that had lived here. 

She couldn’t see what Sandor pulled from the box, but tensed as Castiel put himself between the demon and Dean. Jo prepared to jump in. It wouldn’t do any good, but it was better than doing nothing. 

There was no fight. With a dismissive wave his hand Sandor flung Castiel towards the wall. The angel collided against the grey brick with a sickening thud before collapsing to the floor in a still heap. Dean moved in to take the protective stance over Castiel. 

“Leave him alone you bastard,” Dean growled to Sandor. 

“Keep your position on the wall.” 

Dean’s eyes locked with Sandor’s in a silent standoff. After an unspoken conversation Dean backed down, bowing his head and turning back towards the wall. He placed his hands against the drywall, widening his stance as if to brace himself. 

“Face to the camera,” Sandor said as he stepped behind Dean. 

Again Dean pressed his bloody cheek against the wall that was already stained with his blood. Panic hit Jo when she saw the demon’s arm cock back. Sandor gripped a leather dog lead looped in his hand ready to strike. 

“Dean!” Sam called out. 

When Dean didn’t react to his brother’s warning Jo realized that he already knew it was coming. The leather strip mercilessly lashed down across his back with the force only a demon could apply. Instead of trying to escape the fast paced blows Dean only struggled to stand up to them as the leather cracked down, raising vicious red welts in its wake. 

Out of the corner of her eye Jo saw Castiel surge to his feet and was ready to join him. Before she could even move her eyes to him, the nearest guard had grabbed the angel. The large man wrapped his arm restrictively around Castiel’s neck, turning him so that he was forced to watch Sandor whip Dean. 

“Stop!” Jo futilely shouted towards the demon. “Just stop it!” 

The guards on either side of her and Sam stepped in closer, rifles placed inches from their temples. Sam still hovered just short of leaping to his feet when Dean was no longer able to choke back the sounds of pain. The only thing that kept both her and Sam on the floor was the certainty that Sandor could do so much worse. 

By the time Sandor stopped swinging the leather, Jo was on the edge of being ill and Sam didn’t look any better. Beads of sweat glistened over Dean’s pale shoulders. Crisscrossed welts stood out from just below his neck to down the back of his thighs. 

He clutched at the wall for support while he struggled to catch his breath. Dean was still gasping when Sandor gripped his hair, yanking his head back. The demon looped the rusted choke chain attached to the end of the leash over Dean’s head and snapped the chain taut. Dean yelped, stumbling backwards against Sandor. 

The demon ran the hand that held the leash along the side of Dean’s face. “Part of you wants this.” Jo could only see their backs but she knew what Sandor’s other hand was doing when Dean moaned raggedly and arched back into the demon. “At the very least, you know you deserve it.” 

Dropping his hand, Sandor reached down to retrieve the plug from the floor. With another jingling snap of the leash Sandor had Dean bent forward. The demon placed the plug against Dean’s opening and shoved, jamming it in with one dry thrust. 

Jo couldn’t force back her sob at the strangled cry that was torn from Dean. His knees gave out and he hit the ground. At first he looked too dazed to move then rolled onto his side, curling into himself while he tried to bury his contorted face in the floor. Sandor gave a deceptively tender pat to the exposed flare of the plug, sending a spasm through Dean’s body. 

A sickening smile skirted over the demon’s lips as he turned to look to Castiel. “Fits fine. Test me again and I’ll use the chain, not the leather.” 

Sandor went on to give another sharp jerk of the leash. When Dean didn’t get up the demon pulled hard enough to lift Dean’s upper body from the floor, half hanging him as the chain constricted to choke off his air. Dean simultaneously tried to get his footing and clawed at the rusted links biting into the tender flesh of his throat. It was an eternity before Dean got his knees beneath him, leaving him panting to refill his starved lungs. 

“It’s all yours,” Sandor told Sam, holding the leash out to him. 

Jo looked to Sam as he stood, flexing his stiff legs. Jo expected Sandor to burst into flames just from the look Sam was giving him. Sam stood taller than the demon, face hardened as he accepted the leash from Sandor. 

“Let me guess, you’re going to kill me,” Sandor said. 

Sam glanced down at Dean whose eyes were glassy and distant. He was struggling just to kneel as he continued to gulp for air. Sam’s hand curled into a fist around the leather lead. “No,” Sam replied in a terrifyingly quiet tone. “We’re way past that.” 

“I’m truly terrified,” Sandor replied mockingly. “While you contemplate all the delightful ways you’re going to mangle the corpse of this vessel, go restrain Michael’s whore. Kiss and cuddle, get a quick fuck in for all I care. Do whatever you like along the way, but you have two minutes to get him restrained face up on the floor. I want him spread tight.” 

Sam instantly dropped to his knees in front of his brother. Dean jerked away from the contact as Sam ran his fingers over the most obvious injuries. Ignoring the protest, Sam checked the pinched skin of Dean’s neck and his harshly welted back. Even from where she knelt Jo could see that the skin had been split. 

“Oh God, Dean,” Sam breathed. 

He tried desperately to get his brother to look at him, but Dean kept his head turned away. Jo hoped Sam wasn’t taking it personally. She was sure it had nothing to do with Sam and everything to do with the fact that Dean was still hard, naked and crying. Just the thought made her head swim. That was really Dean broken on the floor and this was really happening.

“One minute,” Sandor announced. 

“Can you stand?” Dean looked uncertain, even confused by the question. Sam sent a pleading look to Castiel who had just been released by the guard. “Help me get him up.” 

Castiel’s steps were at first uncertain, but steadied out. His eyes were pained as he looked to Dean. “I apologize,” he said as he grasped Dean’s arm. “I drastically miscalculated his reaction.” 

“’S okay,” Dean mumbled hoarsely. 

Nothing was okay. It took both Sam and Castiel to hauled Dean to his feet. There were only a dozen or so steps to where Sandor had directed them, but each one of those steps rippled agony over Dean’s face. When Dean’s head lolled against Sam’s shoulder Jo saw Sam’s eyes searching for an exit strategy. 

Apparently he didn’t find one because he and Castiel lowered Dean to the floor. Dean kneeled before rolling onto his side to avoid sitting. Jo winced as he laid his bleeding back on the rough, gritty floor. A hiss escaped him as he settled all his weight down, his hips squirming uncomfortably as the plug shifted inside him. 

“Thirty seconds.” 

Jo didn’t recognize the man who spread himself at the center of the floor mounted restraints like he’d done it a hundred times before. Dean’s breath quickened as his eyes slipped close. Castiel put a hand on his shoulder coaxing Dean’s eyes to open. 

“Focus on this room,” Castiel said as he followed Sam’s lead and fastened the leather cuffs around Dean’s ankles. 

The tears tickled harder at the corner of Jo’s eyes when she realized that Castiel was trying to comfort Dean by making him see where he was. As far as Jo was concerned, this was hell. She couldn’t stand to think that this place was better than wherever Dean was in his head. 

“Pull him tighter.” 

“Any tighter and it’ll dislocate his shoulders,” Sam snapped in reply. Sam’s eyes filled with alarm as Sandor moved towards Dean. “No!” 

Sam leapt to his feet and swung his fist at the closest guard. Two more swept in behind him, wrestling him back. Sandor ignored the scuffle and kept a relaxed stance. He stood over Dean whose usually bright eyes were masked with acceptance and an unfamiliar look of defeat that terrified Jo. 

Crouching beside him, Sandor flicked his finger repeatedly against the head of Dean’s swollen cock. Dean thrust up into the friction as Sandor’s hand grasped him hard. With a nod, Sandor stood before drawing back his booted foot and jamming it into Dean’s defenseless side. Dean grunted and his body instinctively tried to curl into itself. 

“He can still move. Make it tighter or I will. In which case, we’d all get to see how long the human intestine really is.” 

When the guards released him, Sam dropped back to Dean’s side. His hand carefully brushed the already darkening mark over Dean’s probably cracked ribs. “I’m sorry, Dean,” Sam whispered. 

“Not your fault,” Dean replied breathlessly. 

Sam hesitated at the look in Dean’s eyes. “It’s not yours either.” 

Dean said nothing. The disapproval was blatantly sketched into Sam’s face, but it didn’t change anything. He and Castiel notched the chains further through the hooks until Dean groaned against every shift of the bonds. 

“Step back,” Sandor ordered once they had finished. He waited for Sam and Castiel to return to Jo’s side before he focused back in on Dean. “Is your flesh really so weak?” The tone was more curiosity than insult. 

Sandor tilted his head as he looked down to Dean. He kneeled beside him, his hand running over the tightly pulled muscles of Dean’s abdomen. “It used to take a full quartering to get a decent reaction out of you. Of course, Alastair said you had been a crier for the first decade. Just forgot your lessons I suppose.” 

Tracing down the hollow of Dean’s hip, Sandor again teased at his cock. This time Dean’s hips didn’t have the leeway to jut from the floor. Sandor seemed pleased, stood and landed a harsh kick from his boot, to Dean’s other side. Dean’s head tilted back, his jaw gritting in pain, but his body was held immobile. 

“Our next request is for some woman power.” It took a moment for Jo to realize that Sandor’s eyes were on her. “Your turn, Princess.” 

Slowly she shook her head. Her mind wouldn’t let her consciously piece together what the demon was saying, but she knew. They wanted her to rape a man that had done nothing but respect and try to protect her. As annoying as his protectiveness was, he meant well. In her fantasies she had imagined a lot of things happening between them, this had never been one of them. 

The nausea rose in her throat as she forced herself to look at Dean. Every solid curve of his limbs and torso were straining, pulled taut by the restraints that held him spread eagle on the floor. The leather cuffs cut into his skin and he seemed to be struggling to breathe. 

“The world wants to see what you two little bitches do when Mommy isn’t home,” Sandor said.

Jo froze at the words. Her mom. She wanted to demand what Sandor knew about her, but she didn’t think he really knew anything and the last thing Jo planned on doing was giving the demon anymore ammunition. 

“Go to hell,” she shot back. 

“Take a moment to reconsider your answer. I’d be more than happy to come over there and torture his perky nipples for you. Ever wonder how much weight you can really hang from them?” 

Dean’s jaw clenched while he kept his eyes fixed on the ceiling. She couldn’t be the one to hurt him, but not doing it would only mean he’d be hurt more. Suddenly the camera she had forgotten was directly in her face. The cameraman circled around them then held the camera low to scan down Dean’s trembling body. 

It was enough to jumpstart Jo. If only to guard Dean from the cruel attention, she moved to straddle him. She was careful of his bruising ribs and avoided putting unnecessary weight on his hips and back. Her hand ran through his sweat matted hair. Another sob nearly escaped her as his pained eyes locked with hers. 

He would hate himself for this. Even with the guns, even though he was the one chained helplessly to the floor. She could see in his eyes that he would hate himself for raping her, just like he hated himself for what Castiel had to do. But this wasn’t rape and it wasn’t his fault. 

“It’s okay,” she softly assured him. 

As her hand slid over the slick skin of his chest, the tight muscles ripple beneath her touch. Her fingers traced over the tattoo she hadn’t even known he had then skirted over what she could see of the brand on his shoulder. He had been trapped in hell with this demon and countless others like him. If this was their idea of fun she couldn’t imagine what they had done to him on their home turf. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as her lips reached out to his. 

She let the soft locks of her hair fall over him, guarding both their eyes from the spectators. They had both made the choice not to be together like this, but that choice was no longer theirs. It took a minute before Dean’s full lips moved against hers, the metallic taste of his blood filling her mouth. In the next moment he pulled his lips away and went on to speak in a whisper so soft she had to press her ear against his lips to make out the words. 

“If I can get you an opening, promise me you’ll take it.” 

Subtly she shook her head though she was hit with a flood of relief. Dean hadn’t surrendered. He just wanted Sandor to think he had, but she knew the act was a thin veil. Sandor was killing him and she couldn’t run off to let the demon finish the job. 

“Jo, you gotta get help or we all die here.” 

Blinking back tears, she silently brought her lips back to his. She squeezed her eyes closed before leaning further in, her breasts pressing firmly against his chest. Her lips brushed against his ear as she whispered. “I promise I’ll get you out." 

When she was as ready as she could be, she slid herself over his already solid erection. He tensed rigidly beneath her, enough for her to know that his soft moans were of desperation and pain. If she moved against him low, it jostled the plug against the tears inside him, if she moved against his upper torso it abraded the welts of his back against the concrete and if she tried not to touch him Sandor would do worse than either. 

There was no way she couldn’t hurt him. She could only try to give him relief faster. With quick movements she rose and lowered herself over him, falling into a steady rhythm until Sandor’s voice broke in. 

“And the results of our poll is 97% are in favor of saving some for the next players.” 

Dean was too lost on the edge of climax to have heard Sandor’s words. By the subtle twitching inside her, she knew if she continued for just a few moments longer he would at least have that release. She just didn’t know what the cost would be. Sandor was already moving towards them. 

Gently she pulled off him. A silent apology was in her eyes as she left his erection still locked in the cock ring she had placed on him. He pressed his overheated cheek against the cold concrete, eyes falling closed. Kneeling by his side, Jo remained by him as Sandor came to stand over them. Her eyes only moved away from Dean’s desperation as a tangle of bungee cords was dropped on the ground beside her. 

“We have a request for the Martyr’s little brother and his pet angel to put on a show for him. You get the honors of dressing him for the occasion.”


End file.
